🦋Butterflies🦋 ~ ShinKamiBakuDeku

Ridiculousness

Aizawa considered himself a pretty thoughtful guy. He was the one who single-handedly mapped out the dorm layout. He considered every possibility of a not-so-pleasant event, anything from a villain attack to a nightmare, and situated the students near who they seemed to be comfortable with-- but not cause too much trouble. He had mastered the art of properly planning for the worst, and it was safe to say Aizawa Shouta was a man that thought things through.

So when he called Hitoshi and asked him to watch Eri and the house while he and Mic went to a family friend's wedding out of town, he was shocked to realize that he did not, in fact, think things through.

"C'mon Sho! You gotta learn to live a little," Mic teased, kicking his feet up on the dashboard as they cruised down the highway. They'd only been on the road for half an hour and Aizawa's problem child senses were already tingling. "I mean, what's the worst that could happen?"

"He could set the house on fire," Aizawa grumbled, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. "Or worse, he could forget to feed my cat. Shit, I knew we should've taken the cat with us!"

"It's just one night, you drama queen," Mic laughed. "None of that is gonna happen. Hitoshi is way more responsible than we were at that age, dontcha think? I mean, me, you, and Oboro were smoking hash under the stars when we were thirteen--"

"You never smoked, you moron," Aizawa mocked, a playful smile pulling on the corners of his mouth. "Your asthma is so bad, you would've died after a single hit."

"Don't bash me for being sober, Sho."

"I'm not. I'm bashing you for having asthma."

"That's even worse," Mic pouted. "But fine, be an asshole, see if I care! The fact of the matter is, Hitoshi is a responsible guy. He cares a lot about Eri and your silly cat and the house. He knows to call Nemuri or Toshinori if anything happens. Plus, he's also asthmatic, so there's no need to worry about him."

"He's not the one I'm worried about," Aizawa sighed. "It's the other three problem children. I can just feel it, 'Zashi. They're going to blow up my house."

-

"Katsuki! What the fuck?!" Hitoshi screamed, vaulting over the couch and rushing to break up the semi-fight in the kitchen.

Izuku and the blonde were standing by the hot stove in a heated argument yet again, most likely over something stupid. In Izuku's hands was a bottle of vegetable oil, shaking because of how tightly he was holding it. Katsuki, meanwhile, had his hands flailing around like a stereotypical angry Italian from a low quality 80s movie, one with a metal spatula and the other popping and sparking due to his quirk. He was up in Izuku face, probably seconds from clocking him in the jaw and turning the situation into a full-on brawl, and Izuku was standing his ground, clearly fed up with the temper-tantrum.

Hitoshi, exhausted, pried the two away from each other, scowling with the power of a thousand suns as he did so. "Eri has a headache, assholes!" he exclaimed, glancing between the two of them. "Why the fuck are you screaming at each other?!"

"Kacchan started it," Izuku blurted. "He's trying to cook this late at night! And this isn't even our house!"

"Oh, get over yourself, you fucktwat!" Katsuki scoffed. "What's mine is yours and what's yours is Toshi's and what's Toshi's is Aizawa's and this place belongs to him. So it's mine."

"What kind of mental gymnastics are you doing?! We don't pay the bills, so it's not ours!" 

"Just let me have the damn oil! I'm hungry and I wanna cook something!"

"No! Mr. Aizawa is going to kill us all if you mess up his kitchen!"

"What do you think I am, a toddler?! I can cook better than you dumbass--"